by Julie Kagawa
Kiyomi-sama didn’t say anything at first. Walking to the edge of the gazebo, she gazed over the pond at the rising moon, whose pale light glimmered on the surface of the water. I waited silently, my emotions no longer frozen, but a writhing nest of nervousness, fear and disbelief. This woman...knew me. Tsuki Kiyomi, the daimyo of the entire Moon Clan, could be my...
“I come here sometimes,” she said with her back still turned. “When the duties of court become too much, or when I need to commune with the kami. Their voices have always been soft, disjoined, fragmented, depending on how they feel and which ones choose to answer, but they have never led me astray. They can be fickle, but after listening to them for years, I have learned to discern their voices, to separate fact from emotion, to see the truth. But there has always been one question I have asked, time and time again, that they have never been able answer.”
Kiyomi-sama finally turned, her dark eyes boring into me, as if seeking to see everything.
“I know you have questions,” she said, and her voice was shaking now, the thin veneer of calm starting to fade. “And I will do my best to answer. But before I do, I must ask that you tell me your story first. Who are you? Where have you been these past sixteen years? Did your father tell you anything about your past, where you came from? Did you ever suspect that, perhaps, you did not belong?”
I blinked. “My...father?” I repeated in a whisper. “You knew him?”
“Of course I did.” For a moment, Kiyomi-sama looked indignant and furious. “He was my husband. I loved him, gave him everything I had, only to have him betray me and everything I cared for.” She paused, shoulders slumping, and suddenly looked decades older. “He never spoke of me? Even once?”
“I—I never knew him,” I stammered. “I was found on the steps of a temple in the Earth Clan mountains and raised by the monks there. They taught me everything I know but...they never mentioned my family. I don’t think they knew where I came from, either.”
“I see,” Kiyomi-sama whispered, and sat down on the wooden bench surrounding the gazebo edge. “Then it appears he betrayed us both.”
Carefully, I perched on the edge of the bench across from her, watching as she seemed to gather herself. For a few moments, she stared blankly over the water, as if gathering memories long forgotten. Memories that she did not want to remember.
“Your father was yokai,” Kiyomi-sama said at last. “Obviously, you know this. You are half-kitsune, so it should come as no surprise. My husband was a man named Tsuki Toshimoko, a noble from one of the major families of the Moon Clan. It was an arranged marriage, of course. As the heir of the Tsuki family, I was promised to Toshimoko from the time I was six, and married when I was fourteen.”
“I’m sorry, Kiyomi-sama, but I’m confused. You said my father was yokai. Was Toshimoko-sama...?”
“No,” said Kiyomi-sama. “At least, not at first. Of this I am certain.” At my bewildered expression, she shook her head. “I know it sounds disjointed, Yumeko-san. It has taken me sixteen years to untangle what happened, and even now, I am uncertain as to when your father came into the picture. Nor do I know what happened to the real Toshimoko, though I fear the answer is obvious. Please bear with me as I try to explain.”
I bit my lip and fell silent, though inside, my nervousness grew. I could feel the writhing of my stomach, and felt like I was standing on the edge of an abyss, waiting for the ground to give way beneath me. The Moon Clan daimyo paused, then turned to gaze over the water again.
“For the first few years,” Kiyomi-sama went on, “everything was normal. My husband was a good man, honorable and fair. If he was distant, it was because his duties kept him very busy—his responsibility to the Moon Clan was his most pressing concern. Our marriage was one of convenience, though my failure to bear him an heir was always a point of contention between us. I believe he resented me for it, though he would never admit such a thing out loud.
“And then, one day, he simply...changed.” Kiyomi-sama frowned, her lips pursing as if she was struggling with the words. “No, forgive me—I am making it sound as if he suddenly forgot who he was. I do not remember when I started to notice, but he was suddenly more attentive to me, kinder and sympathetic. Not that he had ever been cruel—we had always treated each other with courtesy, but there was a warmth to him that had not been there before. He seemed genuinely interested in me, in my thoughts and ideas, encouraging me to share both my dreams and my fears with him. For the first time, I felt seen, understood. And as the months passed, I began to fall in love with him.
“When I discovered I was pregnant, I concluded that it must have been a blessing from the gods. I thought, however foolishly, that our love had overcome my barren womb, for love conquers all and places even the impossible within reach.” Kiyomi-sama gave a bitter smile. “Such notions are laughable now, but I was young and blissfully happy. Looking back, I lived those nine months as if in a dream.” She took a deep breath, her face darkening. “And then, that dream shattered, and became the nightmare I still live with today.”
A chill slid down my back. Kiyomi-sama continued to stare over the water, her expression growing haunted. “When the time came, my delivery had...complications,” she said. “I lost a lot of blood, and became delirious near the end. Everything is hazy now, as if the entire event had been a dream. But... I remember being desperate not to lose the baby, and screaming at the midwives to save it, to not let it die. What happened next...”
The daimyo trembled, her voice beginning to shake. “I faded in and out of consciousness for a bit,” she whispered, “but at one point, I remember looking up and thinking I saw my husband standing over me. That night, he...he seemed like a stranger, and his eyes...they were yellow, like the flicker of candle flames, and glowing in the darkness. He spoke to me, words that I can’t recall now, but I remember being filled with fear and rage and despair. I thought it was a nightmare, but when I woke and asked for my child...” Kiyomi-sama’s lip trembled; she had to pause and take a shaky breath before she could continue. “They told me that both the baby and my husband were gone. That they had vanished, sometime in the night, and that no one had seen them since.”
I bit my cheek, as the ache that had been growing in my throat threatened to close it completely. “I... I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what to say.
“I looked for her,” the daimyo murmured, as if she hadn’t heard me. “I scoured the whole of the Moon Clan islands, every nook and hidden cranny, all the caves and deepest forests. I sent priests, warriors, even mercenaries to the mainland, searching for my stolen child and the husband who betrayed us all. No one could find a trace of them. It was as if they had vanished from this plane of existence.
“In the long years since that night,” Kiyomi-sama continued, “I have tried my best to move on, to forget that I had a daughter, though I knew it would be impossible. One does not simply carry a life within them for so long without it becoming a part of them. I even had a name for her,” Kiyomi-sama admitted shakily, “one that I shared only with my husband, and have not spoken since that night. Her name would be...Yumeko, because her existence, and the way she came into my life, had been like a dream.”
The tears that had been threatening to burst forth finally did, spilling over and running hotly down my cheeks. Her grief echoed in her every word, every glance and gesture, a lifetime of sorrow and regret. I bowed my head and sobbed, for Kiyomi-sama and all she had lost, for the life that was stolen from her, and for the mother I had never known. For the first time, I found myself hating my father, the mysterious yokai who had planned this from the very beginning, who had made Kiyomi-sama fall in love with him and bear him a child, knowing he would tear her life apart in the end.
“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, feeling the gaze of the daimyo on the top of my head. “I didn’t... I would have come if I had known. Somehow, I would have found my way.”
The dai
myo was quiet a moment, watching me, before she rose. I heard the swish of her kimono as she walked to my side of the gazebo and gazed down at me. I didn’t dare look up, suddenly terrified that I would see resentment in her eyes, anger and hate for the half-kitsune who had shown up on her doorstep, reminding her of everything she had lost. Then she bent down, her fingers softly brushing my elbows as she drew me to my feet. I raised my head and met her gaze, searching, apprising, but otherwise unreadable.
“He must have known,” Kiyomi-sama whispered. “He must have known, somehow, that you would find your way here. It is too much to believe that on the eve of the Dragon’s Wish, you would appear before me by chance. And if the Kirin sent you to me, then there are forces at work beyond anyone’s control or comprehension.”
She sighed, and I imagined the mantle of leadership weighing heavily on her shoulders. I could practically see it bearing her down, though she raised her head and stood firm. “You will have your aid, Yumeko-san,” the Tsuki daimyo said. “The Moon Clan will stand ready to help you and your companions. If that calls us to march on the sacred cliffs of Ryugake and confront an army of demons, so be it. I will gather my forces, and tomorrow we will travel to Tani Kaminari, the Valley of Lightning, that sits below the sacred mountains. There is only one path up the cliff face to the Summoning site. If Genno wishes to call on the Harbinger, he must get through us first.”
I blinked rapidly. “Thank you, Kiyomi-sama.”
Her eyes softened, and for just a moment, her hand rose to gently touch my cheek, a wistful shadow crossing her face. “You are a stranger to me,” she murmured, her voice tinged with regret. “I would have liked to know you. Perhaps later, when this is all over, we can fill in the years we have lost.”
“I’d like that.”
She nodded. “Go, then,” she said, gesturing back over the bridge. “Return to your friends if you wish. I will send word to my people and all parties involved, telling them of my decision. Sleep tonight, Yumeko-san. Rest while you are able, for tomorrow we march to war.”
I bowed to the daimyo and started to turn away, but paused when I heard her voice again.
“And, Yumeko-san,” Kiyomi-sama added, “that half-demon who followed you into the palace. He will not be a threat to my people, will he?”
My stomach twisted, and I shook my head. “No, Kiyomi-sama.”
“Good.” The daimyo gave a solemn nod. “As long as you vouch for him, I will not put him under guard. But his presence has made the kami very nervous, so please bear that in mind.” She raised her sleeve in a gesture of farewell. “I will see you and your companions tomorrow, Yumeko-san, and we will prepare to confront the Master of Demons. Oyasuminasai.”
“Good night,” I repeated softly and gave a final bow before turning and walking back over the bridge. A servant waited on the other side, and I followed her into the palace, feeling the eyes of Kiyomi-sama on my back the entire way.
13
For Sake and Memories
Suki
Suki didn’t particularly like spying, but as a ghost, there seemed to be little else she could do. She didn’t want to reveal herself to everyone in the palace; even if yurei were tolerated here, there might be some that would react poorly to a strange spirit appearing out of nowhere. Regardless, it wasn’t in Suki’s nature to be seen. In life, attracting attention had been dangerous and something she’d avoided. She was used to fading into the background, becoming invisible and unimportant. It was even easier now that she was a ghost.
So she trailed Daisuke-sama invisibly through the hallways of the Moon Clan Palace, watching as various nobles stopped to talk to him, curious, she guessed, about a Taiyo in their midst. Or perhaps drawn to Daisuke-sama’s beauty and kindness, as she had been, so long ago it seemed. As ever, the Taiyo noble was poised and gracious, though Suki thought he seemed a bit distracted tonight.
“There is a chill in the air surrounding you, Taiyo-san,” one noble commented, peering over Daisuke’s shoulder to where Suki hovered, unseen. “I think you might have attracted the attention of a yurei.”
Suki jerked up, eyes widening, but Daisuke only smiled. “Oh? Is it something I should worry about?”
“Not necessarily.” The other noble waved an airy hand. “There are always kami and spirits about, and from time to time, we do see ghosts drifting through the palace or in the city. They’re not usually troublesome, but if you find yourself being haunted or harassed, there are many priests and shrine maidens here who can exorcise them. Kiyomi-sama herself is quite adept at convincing restless spirits to move on.”
“Thank you,” Daisuke said with a small bow. “I will remember that, but I fear I must retire. It has been a long journey.”
“Of course, Taiyo-san.” The other noble returned the bow, smiling. “Welcome to Tsuki lands. Oh, and do not be alarmed if you see kodama in your room, they are everywhere. Do not insult them, and they will leave on their own.”
Daisuke murmured a reply and turned to the patiently waiting servant, indicating he was ready to continue. Suki followed, but at a greater distance than before, suddenly nervous that the Taiyo could sense her presence. But the noble walked steadily down the halls without pause, giving no indication that he thought anything was amiss. When the servant showed him to his guest quarters and departed, Suki floated through the wall and found Daisuke standing in a simple but elegant room, gazing around as if expecting to see someone.
“Are you here, Suki-san?” he asked quietly.
Suki was stunned for only a moment. Of course Daisuke-sama would guess that she was here. He might’ve even sensed her presence in the great hall. She hesitated, then shimmered into view, earning a raised brow and a sad smile from the noble.
“Still haunting me,” he murmured. “Even here, on the islands of the Moon Clan, it seems I cannot escape my past.”
Walking to the back of the room, he slid open a panel, revealing a veranda overlooking a small garden, flowered shrubs and stone lanterns surrounding a small pond. Suki drifted after him, watching as he leaned his elbows on the railing and gazed into the water, his face unreadable.
“It is almost time,” he murmured, as if to himself. “I can feel it, Suki-san. The great battle draws near. The night of the Wish is almost upon us. I hope...” His smooth brow furrowed. “I will strive to fight well and die with honor, protecting what is most important to me. I will not fail those I care for, as I did with you.”
Something twisted inside of her. The Taiyo blamed himself for her death? The confession would have brought tears to her eyes had she still been alive. “You...you didn’t fail me, Daisuke-sama,” Suki whispered, struggling to get the words out. It had been a while since she had last spoken to anyone but Lord Seigetsu, and remembering how again had become difficult. “My death wasn’t caused by you, and I... I was nothing. Just a servant, worth no one’s time.”
The noble gave another sad smile. “If that is true, then why do you haunt me, Suki-san?” he asked in a quiet voice. “What keeps you here in the land of the living? Why can you not move on, if I am not at least somewhat accountable?”
Because, I...
Suki trembled. She could not get the words out. I loved you. I want to save you from whatever is coming. I can’t leave until I know...
“Something is...happening, Daisuke-sama,” she told him instead. “I don’t know...what is coming, but it is very close. It feels...important. And...I get to see it, because of you.”
The Taiyo noble still watched her, his expression unbearably soft. Suki trembled, the memory of burning cheeks and a pounding heart making her want to turn away, to vanish from sight, but she forced herself to remain still. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, “I don’t... I never blamed you for anything, Daisuke-sama. I just...want you to be happy.”
The noble closed his eyes. “Arigatou, Suki-san,” he murmured. “If these are truly the last days, I hope
I greet them with honor. And I pray that you will find the peace to move on.”
A tap came from the front door, followed by a gruff, familiar voice. “Taiyo-san? You in there?”
The ronin. Suki winked out of sight as Daisuke-sama straightened and turned toward the voice. A genuine smile crossed his face, one that made her shiver. It wasn’t sad or wistful or full of shadows like before; in that moment, he seemed truly happy.
“Please, come in, Okame-san,” Daisuke-sama called. “I was hoping you would stop by tonight.”
“Oh?” The door slid back, revealing the ronin’s smirking face on the other side. He held a pair of sake bottles in one hand, and continued to smile as he closed the door behind him. “How scandalous, Daisuke-san. What would the nobility think of you inviting a dirty ronin into your room late at night?”
“I am sure they would all be very offended,” Daisuke replied. “Luckily, they are not here at the moment. And...” he paused, giving his head a tiny shake “...I find myself not caring what they would think anymore.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, I suppose.” The ronin stepped into the room, placing the sake bottles on the small table in the center. “I always say it’s better not to drink alone.” He straightened, gesturing to the table with a smile. “What do you say, noble? Care to share a drink with me? Who knows, it might be our last one.”
Daisuke smiled. “Of course.”
He walked back into the room and seated himself cross-legged at the table. And for a moment that seemed timeless, the two men drank sake and spoke of their journey, what they had faced, who they had lost and what was still to come. Suki knew she should leave. This was a private conversation she had no part in. But, perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps longing, she couldn’t quite bring herself to go. Besides, she was a ghost; no one cared if the dead were listening. So she hovered, invisible, in a corner of the room, watching as Daisuke and the ronin emptied the sake bottles and the moon rose higher into the sky.